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Star-Spangled Sunshine: Swift Sheen, Fat(boy) Beats, and the Chaos of Kanye

As today will find many of you celebrating our nation’s independence, sweltering in the heat giving thanks for our many freedoms (such as seeing how much barbecue and Bud Light one patriot can consume in a single day), I thought I’d give you one more thing to be thankful for — thoughts and recommendations from yours truly. So without further ado, here’s how I’m making America greater today…

First up is a solid article from Pitchfork on the passing of indie artist Richard Swift, who while not being a household name likely has played in or produced bands who certainly are for you (including many who’ve shown up here over the years). He was a touring member of the Black Keys and the Shins in recent years, a member of the Arcs, and a producer/contributor for Hamilton Leithauser, Kevin Morby, Nathaniel Rateliff, and others. If that wasn’t enough, he also was a relatively prolific solo artist, releasing five albums of his own since his 2005 debut. The article does a good job mixing the latter offerings with his behind the scenes efforts, effectively introducing his wide-ranging talents to a mostly unknowing public. Sad to hear he passed so young…

Next we’ll honor the oeuvre of another and jarringly shift styles/mood in the manner he is so well known for, that of Fatboy Slim and his enormous, convulsive breaks. While Swift’s work is more introspective and subdued, Slim’s is pure, throbbing id, synonymous with sweaty masses of shirtless youth simultaneously losing their shit in some field or club to Slim’s sample-laden songs. Billboard is commemorating the 20th anniversary of his monster sophomore effort You’ve Come a Long Way Baby (exhibit #12493 I am O.A.F.) by running down the ten best songs from Slim’s career.

It seems like forever ago, but Slim was part of, if not the key driver, behind the tidal wave of electro that first hit the States in the late 90s. Along with Prodigy and the Chemical Brothers, these three dealt out wrecking ball after wrecking ball over that four/five year span, destroying the minds and inhibitions of the broods of beach bros on TRL and more reserved folks such as myself. That first wave eventually ebbed, with those three all but disappearing by the late 2000s (only the Chemicals still pop up with any regularity/quality), but you could hear their influences in the second wave that washed over the country at that time with acts like Diplo, Aoki, Afrojack, and others. The list does a good job capturing the hits, but does leave out one of my favorites (and his first true hit), “Going Out of my Head,” which harnessed the power of a classic Who riff (much like “Rockafeller Skank” did with the Stones) and makes you hear it in a whole new light. (While also shakin’ your ass and dancing.) Check it out here:

We’ll close with one more list, this one courtesy of Stereogum, and their reassembling the recent spate of offerings from Kanye into a single cohesive album. As you’re likely already aware unless you live under a rock (which if so, FYI Drake also released a double album this week — it’s been pretty hush hush so not surprising you’d miss it) Kanye recently completed his run of releasing five EPs-not-albums in as many weeks, items he either produced or starred on (or both). It started with Pusha T’s Daytona, was followed by the much ballyhooed one-two of Kanye’s solo Ye and his tandem affair with Kid Cudi, Kids See Ghosts, and then closed with offerings from Nas and Teyana Taylor. Five “albums” in five weeks sounds cool on paper and a good way to generate marketing buzz, but in reality is just another entry in the Stupid Human Olympics, dumb things we do for no reason other than we can. (Like taking the cinnamon challenge or running a marathon.)

Ever since week two I had been telling people “I wish he would have taken longer and just put out one really good album instead of (what would turn out to be) five mediocre mini-albums — sort of the follow up to Cruel Summer he’d been talking about doing for so long.” Well apparently I wasn’t alone, as Stereogum has gone and done just that, pulling the best two or three songs off each album (and aside from Taylor’s, which I didn’t really get into, each EP does have two or three really good songs worth listening to/downloading). They do a good job, too — aside from the three Taylor songs, which I can take or leave, they picked almost every other song from the five I would have selected. Only thing I would have also included was the opener from Ye (minus the three minute gibberish prelude), which has a pretty solid back end (just like yours truly). So give it a look and see what all the fuss is about.

And enjoy your day off! America loves you (and so do I…) –BS

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Gone Daddy Gone: Parting Wisdom, Returning Winner

Feels fitting on a day when I’m setting out to drive to his former homeland in the Dirty Jurrz to post this article I found on Anthony Bourdain. It’s on an interview the author did with him two-plus years ago, which is endearing enough to read as it has Tony swilling booze and telling tales in the corner of a dark bar, but it’s the closing advice Bourdain left him with that’s so good. Definitely give it a read (and live the words at the end)…

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Also thought since we’re going to the beach and officially embracing the season it was worth throwing out Death Cab’s new song “Summer Years” for a listen. It’s been a tumultuous few years for the band — founding member Chris Walla left, their last album Kintsugi was middling at best, and then there was the very public breakup of frontman Ben Gibbard’s marriage with Zooey Deschanel. Thankfully it looks like they might be righting the ship with this one, which hearkens back to another summer-titled track and its friends from their classic album Plans. We’ll see how the rest come out — in the meantime give it a listen here:

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Still Shaking: Three More Discoveries and Two Ghosts From the Past

Before I succumb too fully to Cup fever, thought I’d pop in again with a few more recommendations to keep the eight of you satiated. In addition to the bands I already highlighted from our trip down to JAWWWWjuh last month, there were three others worth a mention and some spins. First up is a band of literal brothers from Britain (two sets!), the Sherlocks, who started our second day of the festival nicely. The band doesn’t do anything earth shattering — they’re a relatively straightforward UK indie band along the lines of Catfish and the Bottlemen, the Editors, and the like — but similar to that band the Crooks and Davidsons (frontman Kiaran Crook and his drummer brother Brandon, guitarist Josh Davidson and his bassist brother Andy) convey a sense of urgency and energy that sucks you in. The songs showcase bright hooks and catchy melodies, and Crook’s soaring voice gives the proceedings a semi-anthemic vibe. It won’t change your life, but it’s a perfect summer soundtrack to stick on while you’re basking in the sun. Check out “Chasing Shadows” from their winning debut:

Next comes a husband and wife team from Nashville, *repeat repeat, who kicked the entire festival off for us and really got things off on the right foot. The band is pretty infectious, both musically and in personality, and it’s provided a spike of sunshine and energy whenever it’s come on in the intervening weeks. Their sound marries the aforementioned marriage’s voices together really well — guitarist Jared Corder and his wife, keyboardist Kristyn (along with drummer Andy Herrin) — and bounces them off of songs that walk the line between surf rock and pop. It brings to mind similar personal/professional pairings like Mates of State (albeit a rockier, less synthy version) with nice melodies and a little bit of heart. Enjoy the ear candy — check out “Mostly” from their second album, Floral Canyon:

Lastly, we’ll close with the shaggy string bean from Ozark, Arkansas, Jeh-Sea Wells (not lyin’), who performs under the more distinguished version of his last name, Welles. I caught this guy right on the heels of the last one and it was a rather stark contrast — go from sunny, shiny songs of love to raw, riotous songs of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. (Literally — his debut includes tracks “Do You Know How to Fuck,” “Codeine,” and “Rock N Roll,” among others.) Once I got past the whiplash, though, it was every bit as enjoyable — Wells’ voice can quickly shift from pretty croon to ragged roar and he’s a pretty solid guitar player too. My only fault with his set was that he didn’t take the full 45 minutes (first rule of festivals — don’t leave a single second on the table), but I suppose he was simply cementing the axiom to leave ’em wanting more. He certainly did that — his debut finally dropped this week and it’s just as good as he was live. Instant fave remains “Life Like Mine” — check it out here:

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We’ll close with a couple articles on two bands I struggle with — bands I used to really like (in one case going road dog for and traveling to see in multiple nearby states), but who I’ve long since given up on and/or come to mostly loathe: Dave Matthews Band and Coldplay. They’re both big bands — both have been around for a long time, have legions of fans and a comparable number of albums, and yet saying you like them immediately makes people question your taste, sort of like admitting you like bubble baths or drinking rose. (Lay off you judgy fucks — sometimes even Sunshine needs to relax!) For Dave, similar to the article’s author they represent a period in my life where I was younger, definitively dumber, and yet SUPER into the band. They were constantly on TV, friends constantly had them on at parties, and my younger, dumber self somehow didn’t notice or mind the occasionally cringe-worthy lyrics and camp, instead seeing wisdom and sincerity. (In addition to touring around to see these guys a bunch, I must also admit I used several of their songs on tapes I made for girls trying to convince of my love/depth over the years — oh Baby Bobby…)

Maybe I was less discerning or the music was better (or both), but now every mediocre/subpar new release (like this week) sort of twists the knife and makes me shake my head, if not shudder with embarrassment at my younger self. The article does a valiant job trying to convince you that your younger self was on to something, highlighting “22 Dave Matthews Songs That Don’t Suck,” but while I listened to each song open to the possibility I had in fact missed something, I still think those early albums — Under the Table and Crash — are the only two that really matter. That was when the band was still hungry, was still riding the wave to being household names, and still keeping the jazzy, world music bullshit (and self-fellating “jam master” noodling) to a minimum. Take a listen and see for yourself, but I stand by my earlier incarnation — those were some good songs, but that train (just like that younger version) has long since departed.

The second article tackles Coldplay, a band who is similarly uncool, similarly self-aggrandizing and -assured of their own epic legend (and thus similarly infuriating and repellent), and similarly a story of what once was. Just like Dave, I used to really like this band — their first album was really good (and remains my favorite), something I discovered while living in London, and their second album was pretty solid too. It was also everywhere at the time — all over the TV and radio, all over the stereos of my flatmates and friends, as the world fell in love with Chris Martin and his broken-hearted beauty. Then, seemingly concurrent with them becoming international superstars, they became self-important, silly twits whose music became bloated, over-engineered nonsense. Gone was the heart and sincerity of the early years, here by the truck full was formulaic slop for the masses — take a lyric about love, throw in a fun new instrument (did someone say sitar?), and have Chris Martin look at you with his sad blue eyes while he sings to your soul. Certified masterpiece!

Similar to the last one, the article does good job trying to absolve you of the guilt of liking the early versions of the band while lambasting the bombast of latter years, in this case using the 10th anniversary of Viva la Vida as the reason for revisiting the band. The author is right that the album was a rebound from X&Y and an interesting step forward before things went completely off the rails, but similar to Dave I think the earliest stuff is all that stands up all these years out. Sparks an interesting debate, though, both for the album and the band writ large. See what you think — as for me, I’m off to watch the second half… –BS

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Serious Reservations: Mourning the Loss of Anthony Bourdain

I hadn’t planned on checking in again so soon — I know all eight of my readers are still hungrily digesting the many layers of last week’s post — but in light of the sad, surprising news yesterday of Anthony Bourdain’s passing, it felt somewhat necessary. It’s the second time in less than a month I’ve found myself dealing with the loss of someone whose work I really respected and enjoyed. Who was incredibly talented, loved by thousands worldwide, and seemingly doing great, both professionally and personally. Who was funny, charming, and who’d survived rocky moments in their past and come out stronger and wiser on the other side. Who I found parallels to in myself in terms of personality and approach to life and who part of me wished I could become. And yet unfortunately for the second time in less than a month, none of those things mattered as this person ultimately felt so alone or overwhelmed by their demons that they took their own lives.

Which leaves the rest of us to sit stunned, searching for reasons why or ways to have detected and stopped it. You listen to the music or read the words or watch the footage looking for clues. You try to square the surface appearance with the subterranean turmoil and struggle when there’s no success. You search for reason in the unreasonable, sense in the senseless. And mostly you feel the loss — of a life gone too soon, of a talent that will provide no further offerings, and of an inspirational voice and spirit that will no longer rage against ignorance, intolerance, or the dying of the light.

And that’s the cruelest part, the one that will take the longest to scar over. If Scott Hutchison was the sentimental side of Sunshine, Bourdain was the snarky cerebral one. The one that loved food and the simple pleasures of preparing it for others, that loved learning about new places and people, that loved music, liquor, and the dark, dingy scene where those two so often mingle. He hated pretension, self-importance, and stupidity, and especially loathed the people who showcase or embrace all three. He seemed like the guy you’d love to be stuck in an enclosed space with, be it plane, train, or even an elevator between floors. He just seemed like someone you’d like to get to know — or already sort of did, thanks to his unvarnished books, shows, and interviews. (He also looked pretty similar to my old man, which I’m sure subconsciously heightened the connection.)

And yet — this person still felt like they couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t find the happiness or quiet they needed to get through the night. Couldn’t find that reason to keep trudging forward and trying to do better tomorrow. And so for the second time in less than a month, we find ourselves here. In a week where famed designer Kate Spade also took her own life. Where the CDC released their shocking report on the issue, which notes at least 45,000 Americans die by suicide each year, over half of whom have never shown signs of depression or mental illness. And where another famous artist released a much anticipated EP (I’m not calling something with seven songs and a 24 minute duration an album) almost exclusively about his mental illness.

One whose first track is titled “I Thought About Killing You” and talks about killing both himself and others. Whose cover says “I hate being bi-polar it’s awesome” and whose other tracks reference his bipolarity as his “superpower.” Which, like the rest of the EP-not-album, is both good and bad. The EP-not-album is ye and the artist is, of course, the relentlessly frustrating Kanye West. An undeniably talented person, one who has shown up on multiple year end lists here, and also a person whose narcissistic, at times odious personality gets in the way of that. He also happens to be someone who has had very public struggles with mental illness recently, canceling his sold-out 2016 tour after several on stage meltdowns that ultimately led to his hospitalization.

In this aspect West represents the other side of the coin, the person/icon whose struggles are well-known, in almost excruciating detail. If Hutchison and Bourdain suffered in silence (at least to outsiders like us), West suffers in plain sight, trumpeting his tribulations to the stratosphere, which as I mentioned before is both a good and bad thing. The good part is that he talks so openly about his illness and his struggles. Despite its brevity, West manages to talk about feelings of suicide and harming others, feelings of fear and overwhelming, and feeling that his illness is actually a strength and the source of his brilliance here. Bringing these thoughts, feelings, and conditions into the open and talking about them both removes the stigma around them and highlights how common some/all of them are, which is critical to breaking out of this horrible cycle.

The bad part is how flippant he is about it, celebrating his diagnosis while simultaneously using it as a defense, if not an outright discounting, for the worst of his actions. On tracks like “Yikes” and “Wouldn’t Leave” he references the recent outcry he caused in the news and talks lovingly about his wife’s not leaving him as a result, offering an almost “bros will be bros — I shoulda listened to my wife” rationale. Unfortunately what he’s glossing over were incredibly tone deaf and hurtful comments about slavery being a choice, the #Metoo movement, and defenses of the President’s worst impulses and actions that sparked the uproar in the first place. To use his illness as an excuse for things like this is cheap, inaccurate, and distracts from getting people the help they need. (It also ignores the thousands of people who suffer with this and DON’T do morally/socially repugnant things…)

The rest of the EP-not-album walks a similar line between good and bad, sometimes in the same song — the front half of the opening track is an unvarnished, rather alarming cry for help with West detailing his suicidal/homicidal thoughts, while the back half is a catchy, compelling little trap banger. Tracks like “All Mine” have some of West’s best recent lines (“I love your titties cuz they prove I can focus on two things at once”) and worst (“None of us would be here without cum”). Tracks like “Ghost Town” have great new samples and expansions of West’s soulful style, while also blatantly recycling snippets from his previous work. (The chorus/outro from “Runaway,” for one.) And tracks like “Violent Crimes” and “Wouldn’t Leave” take honest, heartfelt sentiments (love of a daughter and wife, respectively) and taints them with clumsy, clueless, and/or cringe-worthy comments. (In the case of “Crimes” West explores (somewhat uncomfortably) his daughter’s growing up and highlights his new understanding that women are to be nurtured and not conquered, both of which leave you asking “what the fuck, dude?”)

The EP-not-album perfectly reflects the mind of the person who made it, showing the rough edges and almost chaotic sensibility alongside some characteristic brilliance (caveats aside, “Yikes” and “Ghost Town are pretty fantastic, and the rest of the tracks have grown on me over the course of repeated listens this week), its warts and winners duality serving as a solid sonic example of its author’s bipolarity. Which gets back to the central question of what are we to do with people who are suffering like this to get them the help they need? Whether it’s people like West with his in your face struggles or those like Hutchison and Bourdain who fall in the other half of the population, potentially showing no signs at all despite grappling with the same feelings.

There’s hotlines and help groups and those are wonderful, critical things. There’s also a piece that falls to us, though — to be more aware of those around us and how our words/actions affect them. To ask more questions and listen to the answers instead of talking at or over people. To live up to slogans like “Do Unto Others” and “If You See Something, Say (/Do) Something.” And just generally to give a shit about the people passing their days in your town/country/planet. Remember that for every soft-spoken sweetheart like Scott Hutchison there’s a loudmouthed narcissist like Kanye West — both people can deliver brilliant, beautiful things and still be dealing with demons and therefore need your help. So channel your inner Bourdain — be curious, be kind, and learn about those around you, so maybe one day we won’t find ourselves here quite so often: struggling to explain the inexplicable and the loss of another individual who felt they had nothing left to live for.

–BS

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Shaky Knees, Sturdy Hearts: Rolling Blackouts, Wild Reeds, and a Girl Name Greta

Thought I’d capitalize on a break from the rain and a rather wild week (there was an in house rat battle, a flooded basement, and a prematurely balding puppy, among other subtle joys) to finally stop in to recap my fantastic trip down to Atlanta a few weeks back for Shaky Knees. It was a new discovery for me, a three day festival in the heart of downtown that had somehow flown under my radar, and based on this year’s outstanding lineup (as well as an “are you KIDDING me?!” review of the previous four after the fact) I don’t know how I slept on it this long.

This year’s big ticket bands were acts like Queens, Franz, the National, BRMC, Cake, and others, but it was that review of the previous years’ offerings that really drove home how much of a peach this thing has been. Just check out a sampling (which I promise is nowhere NEAR exhaustive) from those lineups: LCD Soundsystem, the Strokes, Wilco, Frightened Rabbit, the Kills, Eagles of Death Metal, Black Pistol Fire, Built to Spill, Death from Above, Interpol, Neutral Milk Hotel, Silversun Pickups, At the Drive-in, Lumineers, Band of Horses, Pixies (twice), Cage the Elephant (twice), Manchester Orchestra (twice), Parquet Courts (twice), the Orwells (twice), Foals (twice), as well as Spoon, Modest Mouse, the Replacements, Violent Femmes, the National (again), and Alabama Shakes, the last seven of which all played in the magnificent 2014 spread. That’s an insane collection of excellent bands and the festival was an absolute blast — the venue was really nice, smack in the middle of a park surrounded by people’s homes and apartments (we’re still not entirely sure where the people went — were they evacuated to FEMA trailers along the coast or did they hole up and get free entry to the shows?), the weather was great, cool and dry, both from rain and the fabled humidity that will undoubtedly appear in the coming months, and the crowds were all super chill, reasonably sized, and actually listening to the music instead of talking (!), which is a borderline miracle compared to other festivals. They also had a near-infinite supply of corn dogs — jalapeno AND regular! — which was a crucial (albeit unexpected) requirement for one of my travel companion’s enjoyment.

All told we caught roughly three dozen bands over the three days (with my companion eating a comparable number of corn dogs in that span) and while I may have missed some stellar offerings in years past, I won’t make the same mistake moving forward — this one jumps to the top of the list for future festival seasons (particularly with Lolla’s downward trend in recent years, culminating in this year’s disaster, which will have me skipping for the first time in over a decade…) Here’s some of the noteworthy discoveries made by Bobby and his merry band of sunbeams:

The prize of day one was Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, a batch of boys from Down Undaaaaah, which despite their rather clunky name throws down some really crisp, solid tunes. Singer/guitarist Fran Keaney leads the band’s triple guitar attack, which finds himself, Tom Russo, and Joe White hammering out bright, sprightly lines in conjunction with bassist Joe Russo and drummer Marcel Tussie. That three-part guitarmony gives the songs a Strokesy feel at times, with one or two banging out brisk, jittery chords while the other serves up bright, clean harmonies that dance along on top. Meanwhile Russo and Tussie keep the train on the tracks, driving the groove and getting the crowd moving. It was a solid introduction to what will hopefully be a strong full-length debut in the near-future — check out “Heard You’re Moving” for a taste in the meantime:

The hands down winner of day two (and probably the whole weekend, outside particularly strong sets from Queens and the National) was the mind/ear/headfuck Greta Van Fleet. The confusion comes not from their music — at least not how it sounds, which is a spot-on expansion/reinterpretation of classic era Led Zeppelin. The dissonance comes from who is making it — a quartet of teenagers from Frankenmuth, Michigan — and how good it is. And it’s real good — both in emulation and excellence. It’s honestly uncanny. Close your eyes and listen to the opening of “Safari Song” and when the vocals come in thirty seconds later tell it’s frontman (frontboy? He’s the old guy in the group and he’s 22 GD years old!) Josh Kiszka and not Robert Plant.

The effect is even more jarring in person — the band has perfected almost every play from the Zepp playbook. Frontman who howls and wails wearing paisley hippie-inspired garb? Check. Nimble fingered guitarist who leans back with his legs splayed as if caught mid-stride, casually ripping off guitar parts while shaking his head at the crowd? Check. Thundering drummer who shall be rewarded with a solo of his own during the set? Check. And yet somehow it doesn’t come across as derivative or flimsy imitation. The songs are instantly enjoyable rockers with some pretty solid rhythms and riffs, and the band puts on a hell of a performance, blowing the crowd’s faces off before the nearby restaurants started serving the blue hairs. The trick will be whether they can sustain it — similar to another band of brothers/relatives who effortlessly channeled earlier legends and made a name on incendiary live performances, Kings of Leon, it will be interesting to see if Greta keep riding the airwaves of Zepp or eventually morph into something else entirely (which in the case of Kings, while still mostly enjoyable, will never hold a candle to the fiery, furious excellence of their early albums). We’ll see what these Michiganders have in store for us — in the meantime, let’s enjoy the timewarp while we’ve got it. Check out “Highway Tune” and crank it up:

Last up is day three’s champion, a warm, comforting counterpoint to the raucous, rowdy winner of the previous day (and the night that followed), the Wild Reeds. Originally a three piece from LA sporting folk tunes with an equal number of harmonies, lead singers Kinsey Lee, Sharon Silva, and Mackenzie Howe added a bassist and drummer in recent years to showcase a fuller sound. It works nicely — the beautiful harmonies are still there (the three ladies’ voices go together incredibly well), but the additional instruments gives them (and the broader songs) some extra weight than before. Starting the day listening to these guys, their voices wafting lovingly out over the field in the glowing sun, was the warm embrace we needed while we laid there nursing hangovers. (I in particular needed it, after Corn Dog called me a see you next Tuesday multiple times while playing Mario Kart at the bar. #wordshurt) Really pretty stuff — check out “Only Songs” off their latest album and bliss out:

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We’ll close with a couple good reads (and one good watch) found over the past week, all looking back at some pretty solid albums from years gone by. First we’ll stay in the year mentioned in the Wild Reeds song with Pitchfork’s rundown of the classic Raekwon album Only Built 4 Cuban Linx. Released back in the golden era of Wu albums — this was number three in that fabled first five solo outings, behind Meth and Dirty and just before GZA and Ghost — and it reminds you just how good the guys were in the early days. Worth taking a trip back to the heyday.

Next comes Stereogum’s remembrance of the Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore, which turns 20 this year. This one often gets a bad rap — which as the article notes almost anything following the sprawling, monumental Mellon Collie would — but is one I always enjoyed. True, it marked a departure from some of the more majestic rock moments the band had become known for, instead introducing both electronic elements and a more oppressive melancholy than seen before, but there are some really pretty songs on here that have stood up well the past twenty years. (“Perfect,” “Tear,” “To Sheila,” etc.) The change transitions well to the band’s next album, Machina, which was a brighter pop counterpoint to Adore (and the last of the band’s great albums).

Last is the latest in Pitchfork’s great “Explore X (In 5 Minutes)” series, this time covering the Buzzcock’s classic Singles Going Steady album. This one’s a punk pop gem from the band I was lucky enough to finally see last summer at Riot Fest, which as the video shows is full of some great tunes. Give it a watch and see how many songs you already knew (without knowing who sang em).

That’s all for now — happy Fri-ye day, all! Off to start exploring the latest from Yeezy now!

— Sunshine

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Sad Hare Here: Mourning the Loss of Scott Hutchison

I’d planned to post this weekend about my recent trip to Atlanta for the newly discovered Shaky Knees Festival, but that got scuttled by the terrible news that Frightened Rabbit frontman Scott Hutchison had first gone missing several days ago and then was found dead yesterday, an apparent suicide. It’s stunning to an extent — like so many folks posting in the wake of the news, I’d seen him recently for the wonderful anniversary tour of Midnight Organ Fight and he was his warm, jokey self onstage — but for those who love the band, it also isn’t a total surprise. Hutchison had long battled a range of demons, whether depression and heartache or drugs and alcohol, laying his struggles bare in his confessional lyrics. It’s partly what made so many fall in love with the band — you easily identified with either those particular difficulties or the bravery and honesty it took for him to sing about them in public every night. And that’s what’s so saddening — that despite what seemed like a bedrock solid support network of his bandmates (which includes his brother Grant), fellow musicians (both in his native Glasgow and here in the States, all of whom are posting their regrets online), and the perpetual outpouring of love from fans night after night, it still wasn’t enough.

As someone who hasn’t had the sunniest backstory himself (despite my nickname and cheery demeanor), I understood Hutchison from the outset — a bearded Scotsman occasionally plagued by dark and stormy moods, but who refused to be defeated by them, taking the piss out of the situation (and himself) with a dry, at times devastating sense of humor. It was like finding you had a twin — albeit a funnier, nicer, and far more talented one. My discovery of him (and the band) came with that beloved second album, like so many other folks. It being ten years ago I no longer remember the specific song that blew open the hatches for me — “Keep Yourself Warm” or “Heads Roll Off” probably — but I clearly remember that mix of stark honesty, seething heartache, and blistering humor that filled both those songs and so many others on that album (“Poke,” “Backwards Walk,” “The Twist,” etc.) resonated like a cannon shot, being in the midst of a similarly imploding relationship at the time. It was a combination that would become the band’s hallmark and it was a connection that only deepened over the subsequent decade.

And that’s what’s been running through my mind the last 24 hours as I try to process the loss of this tremendous talent (and seemingly wonderful human) and the end of a much beloved band. It’s those moments we’ve shared over the years and seeing what this band means to me shared with (and by) so many others. It’s that first show ten years ago in the same dark, dingy room I saw them in two months ago, singing songs that made your heart soar (then and now). It’s that show back home in Chicago, outside in the park with 50 people at a festival singing their heads off after a heavy rain. It’s seeing the crowds grow from those humble beginnings to the giant masses seen at any number of shows since then, selling out far bigger venues in recent years. It’s seeing two of your best friends fall in love to (and with) this band in both their early years. It’s seeing your wife latch onto the band (something she rarely does outside Adele and Bieber), potentially identifying those similarly fetching (and vexing) traits in Hutchison that she had in the guy next to her. It’s seeing a room full of strangers come together in a moment of pure exhilaration, time and time again, clapping and shouting at the end of “The Loneliness and the Scream” like they just won the World Cup.

The constant for every one of those memories (and evenings) is their being filled with people singing along to these songs — loudly, joyfully, and without abandon. These songs of love, loss, hope — and what turns out to be just a little too much hurt, if only for the man that wrote them.

This is a really sad day and a really big loss — here’s to hoping he finally found the quiet that he needed, beyond the gaze of what bothered him here on the ground.

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Cool Breeze — A Springtime Sampler

It’s been slim pickings lately musically — not a lot of new releases after the glut from the holidays and not much in the way of shows, either. Seems like everyone’s still in hibernation, waiting for the cold to finally break and spring to finally show its face. Not that I can complain much — between the puppy and the new gig I haven’t had much in the way of free time, instead passing the hours trying to teach an animal to sit, stay, and remember his name and an office to automate, replicate, and fight at scale. Both efforts have been slow, but making progress, so thought I’d slip away to highlight a few choice items that’ve soundtracked the march to the future. First, it’s the latest from Run the Jewels who recently completed their tour with Lorde and continue their flawless run of releases. This one’s a product of that former pairing with El remixing one of Lorde’s new tracks (“Supercut”) and stamping the pistol and fist on it with a couple solid verses. It works well, marrying the cool, slightly haunting vibe of the melody/Lorde’s voice with Mike and El’s characteristic heat. Check it out here:

Next marks the return of Drake with a couple upbeat releases, and thankfully it’s fun, upbeat Drake, not the mopey, melancholic incarnation we’ve been getting so much of lately. He recently showed up on a remix of N.E.R.D.’s track “Lemon,” which was a catchy little earworm sporting a solid opening verse from Drake and a smoking, swaggering one from Ri. Thankfully he keeps the fire going on his latest release, which notes in the opening line that he knows shorty doesn’t want no slow song. Far be it for Drake to leave a lady disappointed, so he gives the girls what they asked for, three and a half minutes of fun. It’s a welcome return, with a bouncy Lauryn Hill sample to boot, so click play and have a little fun.

Lastly, it was 4/20 yesterday so naturally the LA punks from FIDLAR decided to show up and release a new song. For a band who so gleefully sings about drinking and drugs in their many forms and incantations, they haven’t strayed far from the mold here — but as a fan of those previous offerings, there’s something to be said about the simple pleasures of songs about life’s simple pleasures. This, like the rest of their material, isn’t going to win any awards for lyrical complexity and depth (or the approval of many parents and medical professionals), but it’s fun, catchy, and fits in flawlessly with the rest of their work. So turn off your critical thinking, crack a cold one, and crank up the volume with the kids from California:

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Actually, since it’s playoff hockey season (the greatest of all postseason sports, whether my Hawks are there or not) we’ll sneak one more in before the final buzzer. I caught this article on Stereogum this morning on the 20th anniversary of Massive Attack’s classic third album Mezzanine (exhibit #6767 I am OAF) that is worth a read. It does a good job talking not only about the importance of the album based on the quality of the songs (and as good as Blue Lines was, loaded with some absolute monsters like “Unfinished Sympathy,” this one’s hands down my favorite), but also that intangible quality it has, which is at turns foreboding, mysterious, dangerous, and sensuous — often all at the same time. And it’s that quality that really sets the album apart — the article talks about how often it’s been used in TV and film because of how instantly it calls those emotions to mind, and it does the same for me despite 20 years of heavy listening.

It still reminds me of being a twenty-something kid in Chicago, listening to the album obsessively in a way I never listened to their other albums (and still don’t), and one of my favorite things was to get the DJ at the Artful Dodger (one of my long-gone, but never forgotten favorite dives) to play “Inertia Creeps” as the final song of the evening as everyone closed out their tabs and decided where the rest of the night would take them. It’s by far my favorite song on the album (and a top contender for my favorite overall) and I loved watching how the room would respond. It’s an amazing track — part sinister, part sexual, a little cold, a little hot — it’s impossible to get a hold of, and that was the magic of seeing it spread through the room like a fog. Some folks would keep dancing, connecting with the sultrier undertones, some would look around uneasily, sensing the menace, others would just close their eyes and enjoy the song, excellent as it is. It was one of my favorite ways to end the evening (as this was still part of the decades-long span where females found me as interesting as spring training reports and tube socks) and I think of it every time I hear this song. So pop it on and see what it does for you — until next time, amici.. –BS

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Run Rabbit Run

It being St Patty’s Day weekend and all, I thought I’d channel the luck of the Irish (and UMBC, and Loyola Chicago, and Michigan… #marchmadness!) and a bit of my heritage to post about…a beloved Scottish band (cut me some slack, they’re close…) And like those two countries’ histories, which are so closely intertwined, the boys from Frightened Rabbit have been pairing up lately with some interesting artists on tracks that are worth a listen.

The most pronounced partnership appears to be their forthcoming one as Mastersystem, which has Rabbit frontman Scott Hutchison and his brother Grant (the band’s drummer) teaming up w/ Editors guitarist Justin Lockey and his brother James (from Minor Victories). The lead single “Notes on a Life Not Quite Lived” is a promising sign of what’s to come — a more revved up version of a Rabbit tune and a less electro/synthy version of the Editors’ recent work, which works rather nicely. Based on the Stereogum article that initially caught my eye, the four say this is a full-fledged venture and not a side project, so we’ll see how they juggle this with their regular bands. Hopefully they’ll make their way through town in the near future after the album drops in April.  In the meantime check out the single here:

Next is one of the tracks from the recent Recorded Songs EP that I missed when it came out in September, “How It Gets In.” It’s a lovely little pairing of Hutchison’s voice with that of Julien Baker, whose delicate delivery and lyrics of heartache work quite nicely with those Rabbit regulars, as evidenced on her recent debut. We’ll see if the two cross paths again in the future (perhaps on her sophomore outing?), but if not we’ll have this one to enjoy. Check it out here:

Lastly we’ll close with the pairing of Hutchison and Manchester Orchestra frontman Andy Hull from several years ago, “Architect,” which is just a great song showcasing a pitch perfect marriage of those two singular voices (just like the Irish and Scottish! #fullcircle). It’s a really pretty song, one that makes you wish the two would find something else to work on together soon. Five years is a long time to wait once you know something this good is possible. See for yourself while we hold out for more here:

And just because we can, we’ll close with a freebie, one of the many gems from their sophomore effort The Midnight Organ Fight, which I had the pleasure to see them perform live last month for the tenth anniversary of that classic. It was a pretty magic night — they’ve been touring to venues they played when that album first came out instead of the big rooms they now readily sell out, which meant they played at my beloved Black Cat here, so was pretty amazing to see a favorite play such a great album in such a small space. I could have picked pretty much anything from this one to show you why these guys are so good, but this one’s always been a favorite of mine — it showcases the unflinching honesty and emotion that Hutchison regularly shares with his smart, sharp lyrics, and has a lovely melody to boot. One of many faves (from this album and all their others) — give it a listen here:

Until next time, amici… -BS

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A Quick One While He’s Away (Sleeping in His Tiny Bed in the Sun)

Thought I’d capitalize on a brief moment of respite in another double shift on puppy patrol where we thankfully seem to have shifted from constantly pissing and shitting on everything in the vicinity (including himself) to constantly biting everything in said space (including himself).  I’ll take the pain over the horrifying aromas at unholy hours — gladly — but wanted to highlight a couple finds before he starts needling me again and I lose a couple fingers and the ability to type.  First is the latest single from beloved songstress Neko Case whose upcoming album is her first since 2013’s disappointing The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You.  Case is a big favorite of mine with a voice that sounds like heaven should, so it was unfortunate that album was a letdown for me. (Her previous Middle Cyclone and its predecessor Fox Confessor Brings the Flood were far greater efforts in my book.)  We’ll see what the latest album brings — the cover art is a little odd, with Case wearing a wig of cigarettes…because…..ummmmmmmm…..why not? The song itself is a little off-kilter, too, with an eerie xylophone chiming in before the song snaps into place a couple minutes in. It’s a promising enough start, though — Case’s voice sounds fantastic and the lyrics are her characteristic blend of narrative and understated, unexpected impact, like a pillow with a brick inside (“God is not a contract or a guy… God is a lusty tire fire…;” “My voice is not the liquid waves… my voice is straight garroting wire;” “Nothing quite so poison as a promise”) Hopefully the rest of the album carries on the trend.  Check it out the title track in the meantime here:

Next is the lead single from former Talking Heads frontman David Byrne’s first solo outing in 14 years, Utopia. He’s spent the intervening time doing pretty much everything under the sun — dabbling in British electro, collaborating with St Vincent, playing all forms of world music, as well as the occasional apartment building — but nothing compares to his efforts in his former band. His latest is no different for me — even this song, which sounded so energetic and cool on Colbert (almost like classic Heads) sounds neutered in the studio. It’s too bad because based on this clip I had the track stuck in my head for half the day after the performance, so was hoping for something more. Save yourself the letdown and just watch the below:

We’ll close with the second single from the ever-restless Courts’ upcoming album, which shows the band shifting sounds yet again (they’re trying to compress Byrne’s 14+ years of experimenting into 14 months it seems), this time morphing into a straight up funk band. And as preposterous as that sounds…it kind of works! These guys can be exasperating in their almost willful defiance of giving people what they want, but if it leads to winners like this I’ll take a little more calculated rebellion. See what you think here:

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A Mighty Wind: A Medley From the Heart of the Storm

Now that the bomb cyclone has passed and there’s a momentary lull in the whirlwind of shit-smeared puppies and 3AM wakeup whimpers that have dominated my week, I thought I’d sneak in to offer a couple tunes I found while in the midst of those early morning encounters. First are a pair of singles from bands whose early stuff I really liked before the spell faded on recent outings, the first from British electro outfit Simian Mobile Disco, the latter from nearby Baltimore duo Wye Oak.  Simian’s debut ten years ago was a solid effort representing one of the early waves of acts that eventually developed into the tsunami of DJs that’s been plaguing festivals and airwaves in recent years. (Check out “Hustler” for an instant entree/party from that one.) The pair’s early buzz largely got drowned out by the subsequent squall of feedback from acts like Skrillex, Armin van Buuren, Steve Aoki, etc, but the UK duo could always be counted on for slinky, uptempo outings like the below from their upcoming album.  I will be curious to hear how the rest of it sounds, based on this — might be worth revisiting them again…

As for Wye Oak, their early efforts were a moodier, more indie affair, serving as the soundtrack to a dingy dive bar shilling cans of Hamms vs a swank club sporting Stolis and soda.  And while the pristine production was what often lured you in to the former outfit, here the allure is the voice of frontwoman Jenn Wasner, a delicate, throaty thing that draws you towards its warmth like a siren through thick fog. Their peak for me was 2011’s Civilian (check out the title track for my favorite offering there), before they went the way of so many bands these days (much to my chagrin, as my eight devoted readers know well) and added synths for 2014’s Shriek, which was where I left them.  Similar to Simian, the new single has me curious what the new album will hold — will it be more of a return to their early outings or a more balanced version of their last one where the synths are mostly muted? Time will tell, but in the meantime enjoy this one, a pretty little ditty:

Next comes the latest single from yet another act whose early stuff was much loved before losing me on later affairs, this time from the ever vexing (and occasionally insufferable) Father John Misty.  His first two albums are recent favorites of mine — his sophomore outing  I Love You, Honeybear landed at #5 on my 2015 list — but his recent album Pure Comedy was a self-important, over-inflated disappointment.  Hopefully this latest track is an indication he’s going back to what worked best — not self-indulgent lyrics littered with snide sermons seemingly intent on wowing you cerebrally, but sharp, self-effacing lines looking more to puncture your heart or make you laugh.  This one’s a promising indicator he might be leaning towards the latter, recounting a (fictional?) encounter in a hotel lobby that’s textbook Misty.

We’ll close with the latest from two continued faves, Bon Iver and Parquet Courts.  The former has been playing a song, “Hayward, WI,” recently while touring for the 10th anniversary of his amazing debut, For Emma, Forever Ago.  Written at the same time as that classic, it’s only recently been seeing the light of day, but hopefully will get a formal release soon.  It’s vintage Vernon, all gauzy vocals and warm, woozy melody — so check it out here:

Last up is the latest from the beloved Courts, whose upcoming album was recorded with Danger Mouse of all people.  These guys are never ones to play it safe (or stand still, constantly dabbling in hit or miss side projects), but when they’re recording under the main moniker there’s not many better.  This one’s another winner, a two part whammy that shows just how irresistible these guys can be. Check it out: